


as long as I can look in the mirror and say, ah this is me.

by kissedbylightning



Category: Formula E RPF
Genre: Character Study, Comfort, Gen, Gender Identity, JEV deserves the world so I gave it to him with a cherry on the top, Party, Self-Discovery, drivers in haute couture when?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29426550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissedbylightning/pseuds/kissedbylightning
Summary: Jev had never really thought about it. He was used to being called pretty. With his angular face and his long eyelashes. He had always known he was a pretty boy, that he was handsome. He had basically cornered the market on the pretty-but-moody tortured artist look.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Formula E Winter Exchange





	as long as I can look in the mirror and say, ah this is me.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harlequin87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequin87/gifts).



> I wrote this as part of a FE Winter Exchange. It was quite a challenging prompt to write for but I'm pretty proud of what I have managed to come up with, so thank you for challenging me and I hope you enjoy it. I hope you guys enjoy it! 
> 
> Finally, just a word to the wise and a quick disclaimer. Please do not post this anywhere outside of AO3, please do not send it to any drivers or friends of drivers. This is just a harmless piece of fiction, nothing is real, everything is in my head.

Jev had always appreciated beauty, always sought it out. He found beauty in the roar of an engine; the low whine and squeal of power units; the way the sunlight glinted off shiny liveries, capturing the thrill and beauty of his sport. He found beauty in smiles shared with a teammate after a hard fought win. There was beauty in the intimate act of post-race celebrations, friends and rivals patting each other on the back, reaching into each other’s helmets, the adrenaline mixing with the finality of the season to create an incredible atmosphere. 

Outside of the sport he loved he had always appreciated beauty in the way certain materials and fabrics clung to bodies; in the intricate routines his mother and partners undertook to get ready for the day; in delicate lines across eyelids and exquisitely painted lips. He became a keen admirer of fashion, his eyes drawn to colourful designs and intricately detailed material, made for beautiful bodies. He had never thought about why, he had just assumed that everybody felt this way - finding beauty in femininity, natural or performed.

Jev had never really thought about it. He was used to being called pretty. With his angular face and his long eyelashes. He had always known he was a pretty boy, that he was handsome. He had basically cornered the market on the pretty-but-moody tortured artist look. Jev had always loved fashion, had an eye for it. Fashion houses flocked to dress him in the best suits. He often turned heads in the street with his confident gait and style - effortless. In fact, his stature and looks might fool you to think that he was a model not a racing driver. 

He had never thought about it much until he was at a department store. He had felt like he was being watched, as he browsed their selection of expensive colognes, eyes staring into the back of his head. He continued to wander down the shelves, appreciating the colourful glass bottles staring back at him, wondering if he was being paranoid. After a few moments he had turned around to find a beautiful young woman with a captivating smile watching him from behind a nearby makeup counter. He smiled back at her, not wanting to be rude. 

There was something about the way she had been smiling at him, knowingly, her blue eyes sparkling, that made him move over to the counter - like she was tugging on a string connected to him. Jev approached her with his signature swagger, placing his hands on the surface and locking eyes with her. He gave her a look that said  _ I’m here, so now what? _ Her smile had grown wider as he looked at her quizzically. She had fluttered her eyelashes and told him that a pretty man like him would look good in lipstick. He had felt himself blush and his stomach flutter, as much at the compliment as the concept of wearing make up. She had noticed the crimson decorating his cheeks and winked at him, telling him she had the perfect colour for such handsome features. 

She disappeared behind the glass for a moment before standing back up again and placing a tube onto the surface between them. She opened up the small gold packaging, adorned with YSL in black lettering, and removed the lipstick case. Jev stared at the small, chunky plastic tube, taking in the YSL gold lettering on the black cap before staring at the deep wine colour filling up the rest of the bottle. He had watched as the woman unscrewed the cap and gently took his hand, pulling the lip applicator out of the tube and lightly dabbing the colour onto the top of his hand - so he could see what the colour would look like against his complexion. He had found his eyes fixated on the bold colour, sharply releasing a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. 

The colour was strong, the shade was intoxicating, the liquid felt sticky but light on his skin. It was an unfamiliar sensation, as he had only ever used a gloopy chapstick on his skin - clear and nonthreatening. He felt drawn to the colour and the sensation in a way he had never felt before. He had looked up to see the assistant’s blue eyes sparkling, pleased he was reacting the way she had hoped he would, her eyes were kind and full of adoration. He felt blood rushing to his cheeks again, the thrill of being admired mixing with the butterflies in his stomach as he tried to comprehend why he was so drawn to the lipstick. 

In silence the assistant had replaced the tube back into the gold cardboard box and left it between the two of them for a few moments, while Jev came back down from his stunned reaction. She had asked him what he thought and without letting her finish he had interrupted to ask if he could buy it. She had let out a warm laugh, as she watched his eyes dart between the tube and the colour on his hand, before turning to the till. She rang the item up for him and Jev had paid in silence. With a wink and a smile the assistant handed the tube over to him, as he thanked her. He had delicately picked up the packaging, giving it a once over before pocketing it. He wasn’t quite sure if he would use it, or what it all meant to him, but he was happy to have shared a quiet exchange with a stranger who seemed to know more than he did. Or maybe it had all been a part of her customer service training, to get the customer to want what they don’t need or had never considered before. He had smiled and given her a nod before he returned to the shelves of cologne and finally picked one out. 

[ - 💄 ](https://emojipedia.org/lipstick/) -

It had been a week since Jev had his encounter in the department store. 

He had returned home that day with a slightly fuzzy head, high off of the thrill of his exchange but slightly confused as to what it all meant. He had unpacked the rest of his shopping, putting everything in its place in his apartment - the crisp designer shirts, his expensive cologne, the casual but expensive trousers. But he had left one item in his jacket pocket, unsure what to do with it, unsure about what he could do with it. His stomach fizzed every time he caught a glimpse of the colour on his hand, serving as a reminder of the thrill for the rest of the day until it had washed off. He had pushed it to the back of his mind and left the tube in his jacket pocket, resolving to deal with whatever it all meant at a later date. 

He had spent the next week in a daze of sponsorship commitments, work meetings and various interviews and photoshoots. Playing all of the different roles everyone expected of him: the friendly ambassador; the dedicated racer and teamplayer; the enigmatic interviewee, giving away  _ just _ enough; the handsome model. Despite the week flashing by in an exhausted haze, Jev had found himself spending a lot of time observing people he came across. Absentmindedly noticing the differences in the way the men and women around him carried themselves. He found himself drawn to people’s lips, paying attention to the way different colours graced them. At lunches he found himself watching the way women around him applied fresh colour to see out the rest of the day, delicately brandishing their compact mirrors, their hands deftly applying the various reds, purples and pinks with a smooth motion. It felt like he was studying them, his own tube of lipstick burning a hole in his pocket. Trying his hardest to pay attention to the technique,  _ just in case. _

In snatched moments of privacy between meetings and during breaks he found his hand dipping into his jacket pocket and feeling the cool hard plastic cap against his skin. Some part of him was itching to try it on, just to see how it felt, how it looked. Whenever he touched the tube he remembered the silky liquid on his hand, the way his eyes were drawn to the colour, the way his stomach fluttered. Then he would have to get back into character and move onto his next commitment, leaving the tube to sit in his pocket, untouched and more tempting as each day passed. 

By the time Jev finished his last meeting for the week and returned to his apartment, he couldn’t ignore what was in his pocket for much longer. He extracted it from his jacket for the first time in a week, weighing it in his hand before removing the lipstick tube from its packaging. He wandered over to his bedroom, tube in hand, unsated curiosity building up inside of him. He sat perched on the end of his bed, staring down at the YSL lettering in his hands, grinning to himself as he checked the bottom of the case to see the name.  _ Cascade Bordeaux.  _ It looked and sounded beautiful and sexy. He wondered if it would truly make him look and feel beautiful and sexy, or if it would just look ridiculous - like he was trying it on for another part. If he was going to be honest with himself, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. But it was worth a try, just to see, at least to satisfy his inquisitive mind and racing thoughts, right? 

He rose up from his bed and strolled across to the floor length mirror hanging invitingly on his wall. He took a deep breath and examined himself in the mirror, really studying himself. Noting the way his brown hair swept across his forehead, its medium length curling up slightly at the nape of his neck, he ran a hand across his hair to smarten some of the rogue strands. He started to feel slightly self conscious as his brown eyes settled on his coral pink lips, stark against the short beard surrounding them. Dark hair reaching across his jawline and up to connect with sideburns; a strip travelling up his chin to tuck under his lips; the corners of his mouth and the top of his lips framed by hair. He stared at his angular nose and sharp bone structure, wondering if he would like what he saw, if a pop of colour would change anything. 

He finally bit the proverbial bullet, after some anxious fidgeting with the cap, and unscrewed the lid of the tube. He gently drew out the applicator from the gorgeous liquid, watching it slide out of the gloss. He stared at the soft angled pad for a moment, coated in the deep wine colour, before he tried his best to replicate the motions of the women he had observed throughout the week. With his lips slightly parted, he started by using the tip of the pad to softly apply the lipstick to his upper lip, taking care to try and stop it from clumping or straying outside of the lines of his cupid’s bow. When he was satisfied it was as neat as possible he moved onto painting his bottom lip, using the flatter side of the soft brush to smooth the colour across his soft skin. After some fussing using the pad of his little finger and a tissue to try and neaten up some of the edges, he returned the applicator to the bottle and replaced the cap, before gently pressing his lips against each other a few times to deepen the colour and fill in any gaps. 

When he was finished he allowed his brown eyes to wander and take a proper look at himself in the mirror. His eyes clocked the pop of colour sitting on his lips and he had to stifle a small gasp. He hadn’t been sure of how he would look or how he would feel. But seeing himself like this now almost felt like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle had slotted into place, one he didn’t even know had been missing. He looked past some of the smudges of lipstick that had spilled outside of the lines and admired his work. There was just something about the way he looked with this colour decorating his lips. It seemed to accentuate his other features. He had always considered himself handsome, and occasionally pretty at a stretch. But now he felt like he truly deserved every time somebody had called him pretty, a realisation that made his stomach flutter. 

He still didn’t quite understand what it was that he felt he had found and unlocked within himself, or how the lady at the makeup counter had known it was missing and that he was somehow searching for it. But all he knew was that he wore the lipstick for the rest of the night cloaked in a different sort of confidence, feeling somehow at peace within himself. He had marvelled at the way it looked on his wine glass after dinner, preserving his perfect lips and the gorgeous colour, letting his mind wander to what it would be like to go out for drinks and watch as his companions observed the marks left on his glass. He wondered if one day he would wear the lipstick in public, showing off his beauty to everyone he met and anyone he knew. He didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself, he was still figuring out whatever all of this was and meant. Something told him that this was a jigsaw puzzle that had not yet been solved, that he was sure he would uncover new missing pieces as time went on. 

[ - 💄 ](https://emojipedia.org/lipstick/) -

Two months later the Formula E season had wrapped up in Santiago, crowning Jev and Techeetah champions again - leaving the team and Jev elated after completing such a dominant season.

Between races and his commitments he had managed to perfect his lipstick application and start to build a collection, choosing slightly muted subtle colours to decorate his lips. Daring to start wearing some of the more subtle pinks and corals in public, the more natural colours barely noticeable against his skin. It was a secret he was sharing with himself, allowing him to be safe in his boldness. Every time he wore them he unlocked a new level of confidence. He had even started wearing them at race weekends, feeling empowered and comfortable not just in his points lead in the championship, but in himself. He knew he was a fast and talented driver, he had more than proven that to the world and himself, but the added lift this different level of confidence had given him was a welcome addition to his arsenal. 

Jev returned to his apartment in Paris, after all of the buzz and celebrations in Santiago, finally able to relax and soak it all in. He spent half of his time catching up with friends and family, managing to celebrate with as many of his loved ones as he could. The other half of his time was spent trying to unwind and catch up on sleep. Despite being at the top of his game performance wise, the stress and hard work of the season had threatened to take a toll. He had endured one too many a sleepless night fretting over the season, not wanting to get complacent or arrogant in his ability or lead. This season, more than last season, he felt like he needed a break. 

He had managed to keep his schedule light, with the only event on the horizon a post-season party his team was hosting to celebrate their wins for the season. He was quietly excited for it, relishing an opportunity to celebrate with his colleagues and peers, the party promising to be less controlled and muted than the official postseason awards can be. He had decided he would use the adrenaline of securing a second championship and be bold by wearing his colourful lipstick to the event. He had not quite landed on what he would wear, and numerous appraisals of his wardrobe had hardly inspired him, neither had his trip to BOSS to shop around for suits. Jev felt like he was itching for something different, something more, but he wasn’t quite sure what that was or what it would look like. 

It wasn’t until he had been walking back to his car after brunch with some of his friends that he had seen something out of the corner of his eye, an elegant outfit capturing his attention as he strolled down the cobbled street. It had stopped him in his tracks, causing him to wander over to the shop window, to examine it closely. The black lettering above the shop window read  _ Dior,  _ which almost made Jev’s heart skip a beat as he thought back to being a teenager wowed by the ruffles and lace adorning gorgeous outfits. He stared up at the display, noticing the outfit that originally caught his eye. Taking in the beautiful sight of the delicate but strong material, admiring the way the chiffon sleeves contrasted with the linen body - simple but elegant, feminine but ambiguous. It was as if it was screaming out at him, like the mannequin was holding a sign saying:  _ exclusively for Jean- _ _ Éric _ _ Vergne.  _ Just like with the lipstick he knew it was something he wanted, and needed, but this time he had a little more of an idea as to the why of it all. 

He had taken a deep breath and confidently waltzed into the shop, requesting a closer look at the outfit. The ladies in the shop had recognised him and gushed over his achievements, no question as to why he was looking at this particular outfit and not one of their many suits. One lady with a twinkle in her eye had suggested a fitting for him there and then, as Jev gushed over how soft and beautiful the material felt between his hands. Knowing he had found the outfit he was looking for he had agreed and they had swept him off to the changing rooms to start the measuring process.

He was used to being measured for suits, the awkward poking and prodding, measuring tapes fitting in awkward places - usually finding the whole situation tiresome. This time, however, he did not feel on edge. He felt oddly comforted as the women descended on him with pins and tape measures, clucking over his lean physique, appraising his good looks and pretty features. They had asked him if he liked the original colour and with a grin he had requested a slightly different colour, taking inspiration from a long flowing dress he had seen in the store earlier. Smiling up at him as they threw chiffon over his arms, pinning together linen at his hips and waist, composing the outline of the outfit as they went. When they had taken the measurements and pinned the relevant materials they had taken down his address and informed him the outfit would be sent directly to him when it was completed. He had paid and thanked them for their help before leaving to carry on with his day. 

He had waited almost with bated breath for two weeks as the outfit was being fashioned for him. A sudden nervous energy taking root in his mind and heart. It wasn’t concern for how he would look or how it would make him feel, he was almost confident that it would be another missing piece of his puzzle slotting into place, but anxiety over how others might react. For Jev it wasn’t a matter of wanting to be a woman or wanting to perform a specific role, but the ability to take on femininity in a way that he had previously thought was reserved solely for the women in his life; for the gorgeous models on catwalks; and, for men standing on the outside of masculinity looking in. 

In fact in the time he had been waiting for his outfit to be crafted and arrive at his door he had ended up noticing the ways in which other people bent gender to their own will. Appreciating the androgyny some girls embraced; noticing the way in which some younger men preferred long flowing kimonos in the summer and to adorn themselves with delicate jewellery; admiring how many women gravitated towards slightly harsher looks with thick eyebrows and patterned button ups rolled up at the sleeves. He admired the different ways everyone around him was exploring who they were in their own unique ways, cherry picking aspects from societal pressures and bending them to their own creativity and will. This was nothing more than an exploration of all the facets of himself, a way to unlock and reveal more of himself. Not just an attempt to prove to everyone he was more than some temperamental pretty boy with lightning fast reflexes. But to prove to himself that perhaps now it was okay to become completely comfortable with who he had always been and who he was. 

After a successful lunch with some of his closest colleagues and friends Jev had returned back to his flat to be greeted at reception with a package. The box was large and colourful with  _ Dior  _ clearly embossed onto the front, a blue bow adorning tying it all together. He had thanked the doorman and barely stifled his excitement as he bounced off towards his flat. With burning palms and butterflies in his stomach, his barely contained excitement had made it difficult to fit his key in the lock and get inside of the apartment. He had hurried into his bedroom and gently placed the beautiful box onto his bed, sitting down beside it as he swiftly untied the bow. He lifted the lid off of the box, placing it behind him, lying inside of the box was a neatly wrapped and folded mixture of linen and chiffon. A note sat atop the fabric, embossed with the shop’s logo and scented with their top selling perfume. It read:  _ congratulations to our new champion, may you feel as pretty as you look.  _ The simple words threatened to bring a tear to his eye, as his brain and heart made the connection between the words and a small part of what he had been searching for. 

[ - 💄 ](https://emojipedia.org/lipstick/) -

He had left his new garment in its box for the next two weeks as his media and team commitments ramped up slightly, everyone wanting a piece of the new champion, wanting to understand how he felt as the first World Champion of Formula E. Something in his mind told him not to ruin the surprise of how it would look until the evening of the party, not wanting to give himself a chance to overthink it too much or talk himself out of the idea. 

So there he was in his fancy London hotel room, a mere two hours before the party was due to start, finally unwrapping his outfit with tender care. He let the chiffon fall through his fingers as he clutched the linen close to his chest, allowing himself to breathe in the fabric and appreciate the high quality craftsmanship. A quick glance at his watch jolted him into action, placing the material back into its box. He headed off to the shower to start the process of getting ready, enjoying it as much as possible, allowing himself to soothe his aches and muscles, to calm his straying and frantic mind, treating his body as lovingly as it deserved. He followed his shower with the careful process of trimming his beard neatly - preserving the way the hair framed his lips and face, without reducing it to stubble. He towel dried his hair before taming his now messy and ruffled locks - brushing it into his signature side sweep, allowing the small sections of hair at the nape of his neck to curl up slightly, as he styled his hair using as little product as he could. 

When he finally emerged from the bathroom in his boxers, clean and dry from his shower, he strode across to the bed and picked up the first part of his outfit. He allowed his fingers to appreciate the chiffon blouse for a few moments, feeling how silky smooth it was beneath them, anticipating how silky smooth it would feel against his chest and arms. He carefully unbuttoned the blouse before shrugging it onto his frame, goosebumps forming across his chest and arms as he felt the cool silky fabric embrace his bare skin - noting the way the sleeves ghosted his forearms and clung to his biceps. With slightly shaky fingers he started buttoning up the front, smoothing out the colour when he reached the top. Noting the way his chest hair poked up out of his shirt. Satisfied and comfortable with the silky sensation against his body, Jev moved to the next piece of the outfit - the a-line linen skirt. He felt the difference in material as soon as he picked it up - still light but slightly heavier than the blouse. He stepped into it and pulled it up to his waist feeling in amazement the way it sat on his hips and waist, hugging him snug. He marvelled at the long pleat down the middle, as he grabbed the belt from the box and used it to tie the skirt to his waist a little more convincingly. To finish the outfit off he picked up the linen top and pulled it over his head, making sure to fit his arms inside of the sleeves, feeling the linen lie on top of the chiffon - intensifying the feeling of the chiffon against his skin. 

Before he looked at himself in the mirror properly he retreated back to the bathroom, picking up his tube of  _ Cascade Bordeaux  _ and expertly applying it to his moisturised lips with a few flicks of his wrist - a far cry from the slightly smudged look he had started his journey with. He opened a small circular case and grabbed a soft brush from his travel bag, dipping the brush into the coral pink powder gently before lightly dusting his cheekbones - in an attempt to brighten up his face slightly against the deep wine staining his lips and the olive and gold material clinging to his body. He took one look into the mirror, his brown eyes scanning his face - noting the slight pink of his cheeks, the exquisite colour of his lips and the neat trim of his beard. 

After a deep breath he walked back into the bedroom, ready for the big reveal and to really see how he looked in his outfit and deal with whatever reckoning was potentially about to take place. Jev turned to the mirror with anticipation and sweaty palms, his heart beating almost out of his chest, as he finally allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of him. This time he did not stifle his gasp and his warm eyes wandered across his body. Paying particular attention to the way his arms were enveloped by the light silk material, the olive and gold colours mixing together to shine and shimmer depending on how the light caught them, the dark hair spreading across his arms visible through the sheer fabric. He noticed how his arm muscles and shoulders were slightly enhanced by the way the linen and chiffon intersected - with the short linen sleeves sitting just at the edges of his shoulders, giving way to flowing material clinging to his muscles. He marvelled as the olive linen top sat on top of the light silk, enhancing his chest and stopping just above his waist, tailored to provide a slight dip at his waist, the tiny angle almost giving his body a new form. His eyes followed the chiffon blouse down to the skirt, which dropped down to just above his ankle betraying his golden slightly heeled boots to cap off his outfit. He admired how the boots gave his 6ft stature an extra boost - almost laughing as he imagined how his shorter peers would pout in frustration at having to stand next to his already naturally tall frame. 

He hadn’t been quite sure what he was wanting or what he had expected to see or feel when he finally tried it on. Looking at himself in this gorgeously elegant fit he had felt the slightly familiar snap of another missing jigsaw piece slipping into place, as he felt totally at peace with himself and his looks. There was no doubt he was handsome, he was  _ always  _ handsome. But now there was no doubt that he was beautiful and breathtaking and gorgeous. All words he thought were reserved for long haired goddesses with their perfectly tiny figures and doll like features, and for them alone. More than looking the part, he  _ felt  _ the words too - perhaps for the first time he truly believed he was as pretty as people had been telling him over the years, passersby and strangers able to perceive something within him he had been unable to until now. He couldn’t stop staring at himself in the mirror, his strong hands touching his face and body - almost as if he was trying to prove to himself that it was actually his own reflection staring back at him. 

Minutes passed and he stayed glued to the spot, mesmerised by the confidence and peace he felt. Stunned at how he was continuing to stumble across different pieces of a puzzle he did not know had been missing, filling little gaps and marrying up ideas and thoughts buried away in his subconscious. He felt like he had slipped into a giddy daze, where the concept of being completely comfortable in his own skin wasn’t so alien anymore, almost like he was finally able to write his own rules on how he could be, finally had permission to be who he really was - or the freedom to discover exactly who that could be. It was exciting, terrifying and thrilling all at the same time - as you could expect any journey to be. 

Jev had managed to rip his eyes away from his reflection for a second to check the time, realising he had spent a lot longer getting ready and admiring his reflection than he realised. With the realisation that he was supposed to be at a party in half an hour came the sharp sting of anxiety, as his brain unearthed some seeds of doubt as to how this would be received by his colleagues. In all of his marvelling about how he looked he had almost forgotten the purpose of the outfit and somehow the idea that it would inspire questioning looks and potentially invasive and difficult questions had not crossed his mind in the weeks leading up to the party. The excited butterflies in his stomach gave way to jangling nerves, the kind that ate away at your confidence and clouded your mind with unhelpful and negative thoughts. He pictured the looks on Sam and Andre’s faces and wondered how Antonio would react, he could almost see some of their other peers sniggering behind their hands. He wondered how the team would react and if anybody would refuse to acknowledge him for merely choosing to present himself the way he wanted to. 

The sneaking thoughts had now started burrowing their way through his confidence, turning his beauty into something threatening, something forbidden, something monstrous. It threatened to overwhelm him, forcing him to sit on the edge of the hotel bed and hold his head in his hands as he tried to take deep breaths. Of course he would be feeling on edge about how others would see him, as much as he hated to admit it he still felt like on occasion he had to prove himself to everyone and overcompensate for approval. He hoped that his reputation for being one of the best dressed on the grid and the slightly androgynous undertones of his outfit would quash any negative reactions or intrusive questions - but as with anything else, that was not guaranteed. He continued to force himself to take deep breaths, focusing on the shaky air escaping his mouth and lungs. He let himself gather his thoughts for a few more moments, allowing the spiral to try and wear itself out, to reach the final turn. Ready for when that happened to go on the offensive. 

Jev managed to get his breathing back under control, his palms now significantly less clammy, his mind and heart slowing down to an even pace. He pushed himself off of the bed and stood once more in front of the mirror and gave himself one last look. He allowed himself to feel the excitement and beauty of how he looked, to admire the curves and flow of the fabric and how it fit him like nothing else he had ever worn. His lipstick, blush and outfit acting as an extension of himself. He confidently and firmly told himself that anyone who truly knew him would recognise that - everyone else could just fall to the wayside. He was starting to feel like he was filling in previously undetected microscopic holes and he would be damned if he let his mind ruin this for him. He had every right to turn up to an event looking and feeling gorgeous.

After a further pep talk with himself in front of the mirror he had managed to banish most of his anxieties and doubts to the far corners of his mind, or at least far away enough for him to stomach leaving the hotel room with as much confidence as he could muster. With another deep breath he left his room and sauntered down the carpeted corridor, which muffled the sound of his heels against the ground. He waited at the end of the corridor for the lift, his confidence and buzz mixing with residual anxiety and flashes of terror. When the lift finally came he wasted no time in getting into the mirror lined box, pressing the lobby button as he passed. He settled into a corner of the lift. He kept eye contact with himself in the mirrors opposite, in an attempt to tether himself to this vision of himself and to his thoughts about it, to etch it into his mind before anyone could threaten the confidence he was exuding. 

With a ding the lift had reached its destination, forcing Jev to break eye contact with himself and push off of the wall he was leaning on to walk through the open doors into the busy lobby. Luckily for him it was a Thursday night and all manner of different hotel guests, restaurant guests and tourists were shuffling around the large and busy hotel lobby. He slipped through undetected as he made his way to the reception, with hardly anyone waiting he walked up to the person behind the desk and asked about whether a car had come for him yet. They had smiled at him and pointed him towards the front doors to a black town car with private plates. With a warm smile and a quick thank you Jev had made his way out into the balmy night and had been ushered into the car by one of the doormen. 

They weaved through London’s busy roads in silence, making their way further into Central London and towards their destination. He focused on watching the city flash by as they went, imagining he was back in his car, able to block all of the noise out except for the one thing he had to focus on. Tonight the singular most important thing was how he looked and felt the most secure he had ever felt. Everything else was just white noise, as far as he was concerned. Tonight was his and the team’s night and he was determined to enjoy their successes. He was a three times champion, the first Formula E World Champion, the team were champions once again - a true electric success story. Just thinking about it in those terms made Jev smile to himself. 

Before too long they had pulled up to a throng of people on the pavement outside the imposing hotel, signalling that they had reached their destination. He leaned forward to thank and tip the driver, wishing him a good evening, as he opened his passenger door and stepped back out into the night. He was greeted by a member of security who ushered him inside the hotel towards the extravagant ballroom. He watched as the small group in front of him posed for the photographers against Techeetah’s professional backdrop, making sure their stylish guests were photographed prior to being let loose on any festivities. He was approached by a press officer who smiled at him warmly and took him by the arm to wait at the edge of the faux red carpet ready for his turn to be photographed. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest as he watched the guests in front of him walk into the ballroom, hearing his name being shouted by a cacophony of voices. 

With his signature smize he stepped onto the carpet and angled himself towards the photographers, making sure to pay attention to groups of them at a time, turning when asked, changing his pose when needed, all the while challenging any of them to dare to make a comment about what he was wearing. A few of them shouted out ‘who are you wearing’ to which he sweetly replied ‘only the best for a champion’, his thick French accent coating the words before following up with ‘Christian Dior’. His final pose was paired with a knowing and wicked smile. He was well and truly in his element. Jev waved as he stepped off the carpet and strutted towards the ballroom door entrance. 

The room was buzzing, with conversations, elation and celebration, a DJ playing upbeat music as background noise to the sounds of laughter and chatter that filled up the room. He accepted the glass of champagne a passing waiter offered him, as his eyes darted around the room to see if any of his friends had turned up yet. He wandered into the room ever so slightly, taking his time as he started sipping his drink, smiling at people as he walked past them, raising a glass to the few he vaguely recognised and nodding at them. Before long he spotted the back of Sam’s head and decided now would be as good a time as any to approach a friendly face. He approached his friend from the side, so he had a chance to see Sam’s instant reaction, his stomach slowly knotting with every step. When he finally reached him he let an outstretched arm rest on the other man’s shoulder, as he greeted him. 

“Hello Sam, the party is quite dead tonight, huh?” 

Jev did his best to offset his nerves with a terrible joke, as Sam reacted to the arm on his shoulder and turned around with a smile as he recognised the drawl of his friend. He shook his head at the terrible joke before he could really notice Jev in all of the evening’s glory. Sam let his eyes settle on Jev, widening as he took in the colour on his lips, the olive and golden material adorning his body - shimmering in the light. Sam almost did a double take as he took it all in, admiring the way in which his friend’s eyes were sparkling in a way he had not seen before. Marvelling at how at home Jev seemed in these clothes, with his pretty features accentuated by pops of colour and makeup. He saw the way Jev smiled as he watched Sam’s reaction, loving the attention Sam was giving him, a slight tinge of uncertainty in how the other man would react to seeing him like this. 

“Bloody hell Jev,” Sam managed to finally say something, unaware that he had been stunned into silence, his eyes finally settling on the pair of gold boots on his friends feet, “You look….stunning! Oi mate, is there anything you can’t do?” 

The two men laughed at that and the hint of jealousy Jev hidden in Sam’s words and tone. Jev exhaled the breath he had been holding, as Sam beckoned over more of their peers and one by one they all eyeballed his outfit, amazed by the confidence Jev was managing to exude. He was sure he had even seen one or two of their jaws drop. With a wicked grin and a raised eyebrow he greeted them to a chorus of ‘wow’ and ‘blimey’. His nerves dissipating at the awestruck faces of his colleagues, even the fiercest of his rivals wasn’t taking any cheap shots tonight. 

After a few rounds of jokes about the season and warm hugs they all raised their glasses to Jev and his championship - and, as Sam added with a wink, to being the best damn looking guy on the grid. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments will be downloaded directly into my microchip to provide me with sustenance throughout the winter.


End file.
